V- 


DISCRIMINATING  BUT  MYSTERIOUS  TREATMENT  OF  HJS..OWN  PEOPLE. 

' ' f-  ' ’ 


„7  / V 


DISCOURSE 


O'..  > 

4\'"  A 

VA 

/v 


DELIVERED  AT  THE 


FUNERAL  OF 


REV.  JOSEPH  BENNETT, 


WOBURN,  NOVEMBER  22,  1847. 


BY 

REV.  JOHN  W.  CHICKERING, 

PASTOR  OF  HIGH  STREET  CHURCH,  PORTLAND. 


BOSTON: 

DICKINSON  PKINTING-HOUSE  . . . DAMRELL  & MOORE. 


1847. 


Woburn,  November  25,  1847. 


Rev.  John  W.  Chickering: 

Dear  Sir , — The  First  Congregational  Church  in  this  place,  at  a meeting 
held  this  day,  voted  their  thanks  for  your  able  and  appropriate  discourse  on  the 
mournful  occasion  of  their  beloved  Pastor’s  funeral,  and  also  request  that  you 
would  furnish  a copy  of  the  same  for  publication. 

In  behalf  of  the  Church, 


Brethren  and  Friends: 

Your  note,  conveying  the  thanks  of  the  Church  for  my  late  service,  and 
their  request  for  the  publication  of  the  discourse,  was  duly  received.  I feel  that, 
under  all  the  circumstances,  the  manuscript  is  their  property ; and  I shall  be  glad 
if  any  effort  of  mine  may  serve  to  comfort  and  benefit  a community  endeared 
to  me  by  so  many  associations. 

As  a slight  sketch  of  your  late  beloved  Pastor’s  life  and  character,  and  a 
humble  attempt  to  throw  the  light  of  divine  truth  upon  the  darkness  of  that 
Providence  which  removed  him  from  our  sight,  it  may  not  be  without  its  uses 
however  hastily  and  imperfectly  prepared. 

Since  you  have  so  judged,  it  is  yours ; and  may  God  send  His  blessing 
with  it. 


Portland,  Dec.  3,  1847. 


Very  sincerely  and  respectfully,  yours, 


J.  W.  Chickering. 


Messrs.  Cutter,  Thompson,  and  Richardson. 


DISCOURSE. 


MALACHI,  3 : 14—18. 

Ye  have  said,  It  is  vain  to  serve  God  ; and  what  profit  is  it  that 
we  have  kept  his  ordinance,  and  that  we  Have  walked  mournfully 

BEFORE  THE  LORD  OF  HOSTS  ? AND  NOW  WE  CALL  THE  PROUD  HAPPY  ; 
YEA,  THEY  THAT  WORK  WICKEDNESS  ARE  SET  UP  J YEA,  THEY  THAT  TEMPT 

God  are  even  delivered.  Then  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake 

OFTEN  ONE  TO  ANOTHER;  AND  THE  LORD  HEARKENED,  AND  HEARD  IT:  AND 
A BOOK  OF  REMEMBRANCE  WAS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  HIM  FOR  THEM  THAT 
FEARED  THE  LORD,  AND  THAT  THOUGHT  UPON  HIS  NAME.  AND  THEY  SHALL 
BE  MINE,  SAITH  THE  LORD  OF  HOSTS,  IN  THAT  DAY  WHEN  I MAKE  UP  MY 
JEWELS;  AND  I WILL  SPARE  THEM,  AS  A MAN  SPARETH  HIS  OWN  SON  THAT 
SERVETH  HIM.  THEN  SHALL  YE  RETURN,  AND  DISCERN  BETWEEN  THE 
RIGHTEOUS  AND  THE  WICKED  ; BETWEEN  HIM  THAT  SERVETH  GOD,  AND 
HIM  THAT  SERVETH  HIM  NOT. 


God’s  way  is  in  the  sea.  Trackless  as  its  surface, 
and  unfathomable  as  its  depths,  his  path  is  past  our 
finding  out. 

Yet  it  is  clearly  defined  in  his  eternal  thoughts, 
and  unerring  in  its  direction  towards  most  desirable 
and  glorious  ends.  It  may  be  sufficiently  known, 
even  here,  to  minds  taught  by  the  Spirit,  and  illumin- 
ated by  faith,  to  answer  every  important  purpose  of  a 
perfect  knowledge ; while  the  anticipation  of  reading 
the  whole  mystery,  in  a world  where  nothing  will  re- 
main mysterious,  stimulates  hope,  and  adds  a new 
charm  to  our  images  of  celestial  bliss. 

BURTON  HIST,  COLLECTfG;, 

DETROIT 


4 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


To  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man,  is  a frequent 
office  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  this  blessed  Book.  To  this 
end  Malachi  wrote,  in  this  chapter:  “Ye  have  said,  It 
is  vain  to  serve  God ; and  what  profit  is  it  that  we 
have  kept  his  ordinance,  and  that  we  have  walked 
mournfully  before  the  Lord  of  hosts  % ” They  had 
said  even  more  than  this.  They  had  “ called  the 
proud  happy ; ” and  had  declared,  in  a tone  of  unbelief 
and  murmuring : “ they  that  work  wickedness  are  set 
up ; yea,  they  that  tempt  God  are  even  delivered.” 
Their  thoughts  had  gone  in  the  same  direction  with 
David’s  thoughts,  and  to  a more  culpable  extent  than 
his,  when  he  felt  for  a moment  that  he  had  cleansed  his 
heart  in  vain  and  washed  his  hands  in  innocency,  since 
all  the  day  long  he  had  been  plagued,  and  chastened 
every  morning. 

But  the  corrective  which  the  Psalmist’s  visit  to  the 
sanctuary  supplied  to  his  heart,  ever  ready  to  learn 
and  to  repent,  the  prophet  was  instructed,  as  the 
amanuensis  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  furnish  to  the 
myriads  of  Bible-readers  in  all  ages : “ Then  they 
that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another ; and 
the  Lord  hearkened,  and  heard  it,  and  a book  of  remem- 
brance was  written  before  Him  for  them  that  feared 
the  Lord,  and  that  thought  upon  His  name.” 

Ah,  that  memory  of  God ! He  knew,  and  He 
would  never  forget,  who  loved  and  feared  Him.  He 
knew  the  proud  too,  and  remembered  them.  They 
that  tempted  Him  were  not  overlooked.  They  that 
wrought  wickedness  were  not  forgotten.  He  discrim- 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


5 


mated  infallibly;  and  the  result  of  his  discerning 
estimate  was  recorded  ineffaceably  on  tablets  that 
would  never  be  broken. 

More  than  this,  — the  time  was  coming  when  these 
peculiar  treasures  of  the  Lord,  being  gathered  from 
among  the  dross  and  rubbish,  would  be  seen  among 
his  jewels : 44  They  shall  be  mine ; ” known  as  His 
by  being  gathered ; claimed  before  the  universe  as  his 
property ; recognized  by  angels  and  men  as  gems  in 
the  Redeemer’s  crown.  And  He  would  44  spare  them,  as 
a man  spareth  his  own  son  that  serveth  him.”  They 
had  not  been  blameless,  but  by  His  grace  they  should 
be  held  harmless,  as  a father  would  not  cast  off  a 
dutiful  and  penitent  child,  even  for  frequent  offences. 
And  what  would  follow  \ 44  Then  shall  ye  return,”  — 

change  your  course  of  reasoning  and  turn  from  your 
mistaken  opinions,  — 44  and  discern  between  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked  ; between  him  that  serveth 
God,  and  him  that  serveth  Him  not.”  God’s  discrimi- 
nation would  then  become  in  a measure  theirs.  The 
difference  He  should  make,  would  rectify  their  erro- 
neous confounding  of  characters.  The  proud  would 
not  always  be  happy.  They  that  tempted  God  would 
not  always  be  delivered.  It  would  not  always  seem  a 
vain  thing  to  serve  Him,  keep  His  commandments, 
and  walk  mournfully,  that  is,  penitently  and  humbly, 
before  Him.  The  difference  in  the  condition  and  pros- 
pects of  him  that  serveth  God  and  him  that  serveth 
Him  not, — a difference  not  made  visible  on  earth,  by 
any  outward  tokens  of  the  divine  approbation  or  dis- 

* 


6 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


pleasure,  and  in  consequence  wholly  lost  sight  of  by 
careless  observers, — would  one  day  stand  forth  to  view 
in  such  boldness  of  relief,  such  fulness  of  outline,  and 
such  vividness  of  coloring,  that  no  doubting  mind 
would  remain,  no  cavilling  voice  be  heard;  but  all 
worlds  wrould  unite  in  saying,  “ Verily  He  is  a God 
that  judgeth  in  the  earth.” 

The  passage  thus  expounded  teaches  the  following 
truth : — 

The  discrimination  which  Jehovah  now  makes 

BETWEEN  THE  RIGHTEOUS  AND  THE  WICKED,  BUT  WHICH 

He  does  not  now  reveal  to  mortal  view  by  His 

PROVIDENTIAL  TREATMENT,  He  WILL  HEREAFTER  SO  MAN- 
IFEST, THAT  IT  SHALL  BE  KNOWN  AND  READ  OF  ALL  MEN. 

God  alivays  discerns  between  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked.  Not  only  the  book  of  remembrance,  but  of 
knowledge,  is  open  before  Him  ; knowledge  of  all 
events,  and  all  beings.  Nor  is  it  the  least  important 
item  in  this  vast,  this  boundless  intelligence,  that  “ the 
Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  His.”  Under  whatever 
costume  of  outward  condition,  under  whatever  drapery 
of  religious  form,  under  whatever  clouds  of  mental 
distress,  under  whatever  shadow,  even,  of  imperfection 
and  frailty,  they  may  lie,  their  renewed  and  loving 
though  but  partially  sanctified  hearts  are  naked  and 
open  before  Him,  transparent  to  their  inmost  recesses. 
Nor  is  it  less  true  that  He  makes,  even  now,  a differ- 
ence in  his  treatment  of  these  different  classes  of  men. 
It  is  not  only  an  intellectual  discrimination,  nor  merely 
the  going  forth  of  His  holy  heart  in  complacent  love 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


7 


to  those  reflected  images  of  Himself.  His  discrimina- 
tion is,  even  now,  practical.  He  manifests  Himself  to 
his  people  as  He  does  not  to  the  world.  He  speaks 
to  them  in  words  that  sometimes  lift  them  up  from 
their  deepest  sorrows.  He  deals  with  them  as  with 
sons,  even  when  he  rebukes  and  corrects  them.  The 
purpose  marks  the  act;  and  God’s  purpose  of  sanc- 
tification and  salvation  gilds  even  His  rod  like  a scep- 
tre, and  changes  blows  into  caresses. 

But  it  is  equally  plain,  that  this  discrimination, 
unerring  as  it  is,  and  manifested  in  a thousand  ways 
to  its  favored  objects,  is  not  revealed  by  any  uniform 
course  of  divine  providence.  The  believer  bears  about 
with  him  no  charmed  life.  In  body,  mind,  and  estate, 
he  suffers  like  other  men.  Not  only  does  the  rain 
descend  and  the  sun  shine,  alike  on  the  evil  and  the 
good,  on  the  just  and  the  unjust,  but  those  storms 
and  lightning-strokes,  which,  since  Eden  was  shut  up, 
have  desolated  the  world,  have  no  restraining  hand 
laid  upon  them  to  the  exemption  of  the  humblest  and 
holiest  from  their  dreadful  visitations.  Good  men  are 
in  trouble  as  other  men ; in  trouble  of  mind  as  in 
other  trouble. 

Let  us  dwell  for  a moment  upon  this  branch  of  the 
believer’s  sufferings;  a large  and  fruitful  branch  of 
that  tree  of  human  woe,  whose  roots  were  planted  in 
Paradise.  Well  may  each  victim  of  mental  disease 
and  suffering  exclaim  with  Job,  “ Have  pity  upon 
me,  have  pity  upon  me,  O ye  my  friends ; for  the 
hand  of  God  hath  touched  me.”  And  even  when 


8 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


disease  has  begun  to  impair  the  delicate  texture  of  that 
organ  in  which  the  animal  and  spiritual  seem  myste- 
riously to  meet ; after  reason  is  dethroned,  conscious- 
ness weakened,  and  responsibility  gone,  the  same  appeal 
for  pity  may  be  heard  in  the  words  of  unnatural 
excitement  or  despondency,  or  perceived  by  the  sensi- 
tive heart  in  the  silent  wretchedness  of  despair,  and 
the  dreadful  deeds  of  an  unguided  and  irresponsible 
frenzy. 

From  all  this,  good  men  are  not  exempt.  It  is  true 
in  this  respect  as  in  others,  that  66  one  event  happen- 
eth  ” to  the  righteous  and  the  wicked.  Indeed,  it  has 
been  falsely  charged  upon  piety  — the  love  and  fear  of 
God,  and  faith  in  a divine  and  compassionate  Saviour 
— that  it  tends  to  mental  derangement ! That  reli- 
gious interest  has  sometimes  resulted  in  insanity,  is 
true  in  the  same  sense  in  which  it  may  be  affirmed  of 
every  other  intensely  deep  feeling  of  the  human  soul.  It 
would  seem  that  the  God  of  nature  and  of  grace,  who 
governs  those  two  kingdoms  in  perfect  unity  of 
design,  as  parts  of  His  vast  universal  empire,  has  kept 
them  in  an  important  sense  distinct,  and  has  not  so 
far  identified  them  that  the  body  or  the  mind  should 
find  their  ordinary  laws  of  being  and  of  action  set 
aside  in  any  case,  because  of  the  religious  nature  of 
the  exercises  by  which  their  safety  is  threatened.  But 
even  these  cases  are  far  more  rare  than  is  generally 
supposed.  "What  may  be  called  the  religious  phase 
of  insanity,  is  often  but  a phase ; a secondary  element, 
perhaps  only  a development,  of  disease  having  a purely 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


9 


physical  origin.  Let  the  hand  of  God  be  laid  upon 
the  brain  of  one  whose  ruling  passion  and  habitual 
thoughts  relate  to  divine  things,  and  it  would  be 
strange  indeed  if  the  disease  did  not  develope  itself 
partly,  if  not  chiefly,  in  that  direction.  But  it  is  most 
plain  that  piety  affords  no  present  protection  against 
these  calamities,  more  than  against  the  thousand  lesser 
ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  most  of  which,  however,  we 
think  more  of  and  speak  of  more  frequently  in  our 
prayers  and  thanksgivings. 

Neither  good  men  nor  great  men,  nor  those  who 
have  stood  in  the  pastoral  office  in  both  those  aspects, 
have  been  exempt  from  that  dreadful  class  of  calami- 
ties comprising  the  various  forms  of  cerebral  disease. 
Nor  would  it  be  strange,  if  a careful  computation 
should  show  a large  proportion  of  such  cases  in  the 
ministry,  compared  with  those  in  other  professions. 
With  so  constant  a taxing  of  all  the  powers  of  the 
brain,  both  those  of  thought  and  of  feeling,  while  the 
other  organs  and  parts  of  the  system  often  lack  the 
appropriate  exercise,  by  which  a due  and  healthful 
balance  should  be  maintained ; and  with  such  constant 
liability  even  among  the  kindest  and  most  considerate 
people,  to  the  rudeness  of  44  unreasonable  and  wicked 
men,”  and  even  of  unreasonable  good  men  also,  who  do 
not  always  show  the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ 
in  their  treatment  of  Christ’s  ministers,  is  it  to  be  won- 
dered at,  that  the  functions  of  that  delicate  organ  are 
often  prematurely  impeded,  and  some  bright  lights  of 
2 


10 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


the  church  quenched  in  an  early  gloom  l Rather  let 
us  say  of  them,  that 


“ Like  the  morning  star, 

Which  goes  not  down  behind  the  darkened  west, 
Nor  hides  obscured  amidst  the  tempests  of  the  sky, 
They  melt  away  into  the  light  of  heaven.” 


But  how  can  I detain  your  thoughts  with  any  other 
illustration  of  the  exposure  of  good  men  to  mental 
calamities,  than  the  one  which  God  has  brought 
and  laid  here  before  us ! For  God  has  done  it.  Our 
brother  is  not,  for  God  hath  taken  him.  Let  us 
receive  it  to  our  hearts,  at  once  a lesson  and  a lenitive, 
that  our  dear  and  excellent  brother,  — an  Israelite 
indeed,  in  whom  was  no  guile,  — died  by  the  vis- 
itation of  God.  It  is  as  true  of  him,  as  if  a stroke 
of  lightning  or  of  apoplexy  had  laid  him  low,  or  a 
burning  fever,  filling  his  veins  with  fire,  had  gradually 
consumed  him. 

But  custom,  and  the  reasonable  wishes  of  hundreds 
present,  require  me  to  go  back  for  a few  moments  to 
his  early  and  advancing  life,  before  saying  what  seems 
due  to  his  memory,  and  to  the  honor  of  that  divine 
grace  which  he  so  largely  shared,  in  relation  to  the 
physical  causes  of  his  death,  and  our  sorrow. 

J oseph  Bennett  — how  suggestive  is  the  very  name, 
to  those  who  knew  him  well,  of  integrity,  kindness, 
and  the  fear  of  God ! — was  born  in  Framingham, 
May  13,  1798,  and  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people.  11 


1818.  On  leaving  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Ando- 
ver, in  1821,  he  was  introduced  to  this  people;  among 
whom  he  was  settled  January  1,  1822,  and  married,  in 
February  following,  to  Mary  Lamson,  his  ever  discreet 
counsellor,  as  well  as  affectionate  and  beloved  friend. 

In  1826  his  labors  were  blessed,  and  the  power  of 
the  divine  Spirit  manifested,  in  a manner  and  measure 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  any  who  witnessed  those 
thrilling  scenes.  At  that  time  his  own  soul  was  visit- 
ed from  on  high ; first  with  deeper  convictions  of  sin 
than  he  had  ever  felt  before,  and  some  doubts  of  his 
previous  conversion ; and  then  with  joys  of  faith,  and 
a holy  zeal  to  honor  Christ  and  win  souls  to  Him, 
which  almost  consumed  the  offering  he  so  willingly 
and  unreservedly  laid  upon  the  altar.  This  season  of 
mental  activity  and  joyful  labor  was  followed,  doubt- 
less, according  to  the  laws  of  our  physical  being,  and 
of  his  constitution  especially,  by  a long  and  distressing 
reaction.  He  was  exceedingly  depressed,  and  felt 
himself  unfit  and  unworthy  to  sustain  the  pastoral 
relation ; but  was  ultimately  encouraged  and  restored, 
through  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  efforts  of  his 
family,  and  the  considerate  course  of  his  ever  affection- 
ate people. 

From  time  to  time  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bless  his 
labors  in  a remarkable  degree ; and  it  has  been  his 
happiness  to  receive  many  hundreds  to  the  church. 
Let  them  remember  that  he  had  no  greater  joy  than 
thus  receiving  them,  except  to  see  them  44  walking  in 
the  truth.”  Few  ministers  could  say  with  more  sin- 


12 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


cerity,  or  depth  of  meaning : “ Now  I live,  if  ye  stand 
fast  in  the  Lord.” 

During  a part  of  the  year  following  the  extensive 
revival  of  religion  among  his  people  in  1840,  he  suf- 
fered severely  from  a diseased  state  of  the  digestive 
organs,  attended,  as  those  attacks  always  were  in  his 
case,  with  extreme  depression.  “ Sometimes  on  the 
mount,  sometimes  in  the  vale,”  is  his  own  recorded 
outline  of  his  whole  life.  None,  however,  but  his  most 
intimate  friends,  I might  say  his  most  intimate  friend , 
knew  how  deep  that  vale  sometimes  was.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  her  anxiety,  and  watchfulness,  and  sad  words, 
are  now  understood  in  connection  with  what  he  has 
said  to  his  son  concerning  “ horrid  temptations  in 
1840 ; ” and  that  we  are  sure  that  it  is  no  “ strange 
thing  that  hath  now  happened  unto  ” him,  so  far  as 
mental  disease  and  awful  impulses  are  concerned. 
We  now  understand,  also,  more  fully  than  any  but  his 
own  family  knew,  the  necessity  for  that  physical 
labor,  and  the  benefit  of  those  out-door  occupations 
at  home  and  abroad,  undertaken  by  him  with  such 
characteristic  ardor.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
enterprises  in  which  he  engaged  from  time  to  time,  in 
behalf  of  feeble  churches  and  other  charitable  and 
religious  objects,  relieved  the  mental  excitement  from 
which  they  received  such  a powerful  impulse.  It  was 
in  these  ways  alone  that  he  could  preserve  that  bodily 
soundness  so  essential  to  his  mental  health.  In  few 
persons  has  the  old  classical  maxim  of  a sound  mind 
in  a sound  body  been  more  clearly  illustrated.  His 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


13 


mental  state  was,  perhaps  even  more  than  in  most  men, 
dependent  on  his  bodily  health,  and  that  again,  in 
great  measure,  on  daily  and  abundant  exercise  in  the 
open  air. 

It  was  partly  owing  to  his  enjoyment  of  unusual 
bodily  health,  at  and  before  the  time  of  his  first 
wife’s  death,  that  he  was  enabled  by  the  supports  of 
divine  grace  to  rise  above  the  depressing  influences  of 
that  event,  and  instead  of  sinking,  as  it  was  feared  he 
might  do,  into  gloom  and  despondency,  was  led  almost 
from  the  first  to  show  even  more  than  his  usual  cheer- 
fulness. This  must,  however,  be  considered  as  evidence 
of  a highly-excited  state  of  feeling ; and  his  vivacity 
was  often,  according  to  his  own  statement,  the  result 
of  a strong  effort  to  keep  himself  up  from  the  gulf  of 
gloom  into  which,  from  often  and  sad  experience  he 
feared  he  might  fall.  Even  his  liveliest  sallies  of  hu- 
mor, as  he  said  himself,  while  expressing  the  most 
conscientious  fears  lest  he  should  go  too  far  towards 
an  unseemly  levity,  were  uttered  by  a kind  of  des- 
perate effort  not  to  be  sad.  To  minds  in  a certain 
state,  gayety  or  gloom  is  the  only  alternative. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  autumn  of  1846,  he  was 
threatened  with  a reaction  from  this  state  of  cheerful- 
ness, and  a repetition  of  former  seasons  of  despond- 
ency. “ I fear,”  said  he  to  his  son,  “ that  I shall  have 
another  attack  of  disease  and  depression,  and  I must 
throw  it  off  by  exercise.”  This  for  a time  he  suc- 
ceeded in  doing,  occupying  nearly  a month  in  vigorous 
bodily  exertion.  Early  in  the  present  autumn  his 


14 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


mind  was  much  excited  by  causes  which  need  not  now 
be  detailed ; and  it  was  matter  of  relief  to  his  affec- 
tionate children,  that  his  attention  was  soon  and 
happily  diverted  from  those  causes  of  anxiety,  towards 
the  choice  of  a companion. 

But  the  crisis,  though  perhaps  delayed  by  that  scene 
of  pleasing  interest,  on  which  we  cannot  here  dwell, 
but  which  was  a last  and  abiding  source  of  comfort  to 
our  departed  friend,  — though,  alas,  how  brief ! — the 
crisis^  I say,  came  at  last.  On  Friday  morning,  just  a 
week  before  his  death,  he  found  himself  deep  in  the 
vale  of  gloom.  He  said  to  his  children,  who  came 
home  on  Saturday,  “ I am  glad  you  have  returned ; I 
wanted  to  see  you  once  more ; an  awful  attack  of 
melancholy  came  upon  me  Friday,  as  suddenly  as  a 
thunder-clap,  and  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  shake  it 
off.”  He  was  by  much  effort,  however,  temporarily 
and  partially  cheered. 

But  all  the  endeavors  of  his  family,  though  assid- 
uous and  discreet,  and  uniformly  met  on  his  part  in 
kindness,  and  with  many  demonstrations  of  unabated 
love  to  them  all,  were  successful  only  for  the  moment. 
The  spell  was  upon  him.  There  is  now  little  reason 
to  doubt,  that  the  purpose  whose  execution  has  filled 
our  hearts  with  anguish,  was  steadily  pursued, — ought 
I not  rather  to  say  pursuing  ? — during  that  whole 
week.  Dark  and  dreadful  week  ! who  can  imagine 
its  horrors,  amidst  which  one  so  conscientious,  — one 
in  whom  physical  timidity  and  moral  courage  were  so 
remarkably  blended,  — one  so  fond  and  so  blest  in  the 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


15 


conjugal  and  paternal  relations,  — one  so  inexpe- 
rienced in  even  the  simplest  arts  of  concealment,  — 
was  going  steadily  and  darkly  on  to  the  destiny  which 
seemed,  like  some  spirit  of  evil,  to  beckon  him  forward 
to  its  consummation. 

We  can  easily  imagine  him  crying  out  during  that 
long  and  solitary  struggle  with  the  dreadful  temptation, 
which  it  is  now  supposed  he  had  the  last  evening  of 
his  life,  while  each  of  us  then  in  the  family  thought 
he  was  with  some  other,  “ My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me  ] ” But  over  those  scenes  the  Divine 
hand  has  drawn  a veil  which  we  may  be  thankful  can- 
not be  lifted  until  that  day,  when  the  retrospect  by 
him,  and  our  knowledge  of  its  details,  will  awaken 
only  new  thankfulness  that  it  is  for  ever  past,  and  call 
forth  new  praises  to  Him  who  maketh  our  light  afflic- 
tion to  work  out  for  us  an  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory. 

His  melancholy,  so  far  as  could  be  gathered  from 
the  few  words  he  reluctantly  uttered  concerning  it 
to  his  nearest  and  dearest  friends,  took  the  form  of 
remorse  for  sin,  as  is  usually  the  case,  for  reasons 
already  alluded  to,  with  conscientious  and  pious 
people.  This  was  joined  with  anxiety  respecting  his 
pastoral  relations,  and  his  fitness  and  acceptableness 
as  a minister  of  Christ.  To  the  affectionate  inquiries 
of  his  wife,  why  he  sighed  and  lamented,  he  answered, 
“ O,  I am  such  a shiner ! ” He  told  his  son  he  was 
not  worthy  to  be  a minister,  or  to  have  such  children, 
and  such  a wife.  May  it  not  have  been  this  feeling 


16 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


which  prompted  him  to  the  selection  of  the  fifty-first 
Psalm,  for  that  last  public  exercise  in  the  vestry,  on 
Thursday  evening,  when  he  gave  a brief  exposition  of 
each  verse,  so  clear,  and  expressive  of  such  unfeigned 
humility,  that  it  will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
heard  it,  though  his  manner  was  noticed  at  the  time 
as  less  animated  than  usual  ? 

But  to  return  to  the  order  of  our  sad  narrative. 
Tuesday  evening,  on  his  son’s  saying  that  duty  called 
him  to  resume  his  studies  at  Andover  the  next  day, 
and  that  he  believed  he  should  go  in  the  morning,  he 
replied,  grasping  his  hand  with  a peculiar  pressure, 
“ Perhaps  you  had  better  stay  a little  longer ; if  you 
should  go,  may  the  Lord  bless  you,  my  son.”  This 
language  we  can  now  interpret  only  as  intended  for  a 
farewell.  On  Wednesday  morning  his  dreadful  temp- 
tation was  disclosed  to  his  son,  though  its  force  was 
little  imagined,  and  the  announcement  led  only  to  a 
compliance  with  his  father’s  request,  that  he  would 
remain  at  home,  and  to  such  watchfulness  as  was 
judged  necessary  and  sufficient.  The  morning  preced- 
ing his  death,  he  was  seized  with  a sudden  and  violent 
pain  while  at  the  table,  which  led  him  to  place  his 
hands  to  his  head  and  cry  out  in  agony.  As  he  had 
previously  suffered  in  the  same  way,  and  now  assured 
his  anxious  companion  that  such  a pain  had  sometimes 
proved  the  crisis  of  similar  disorders  in  his  case,  no 
new  fear  was  awakened ; though  the  occurrence  now 
seems  to  demonstrate  in  a manner,  which,  if  needful, 
would  be  consoling  — the  presence  of  physical  disease 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


17 


producing  derangement  of  mind  * ; according  to  the 
unhesitating  conclusion  of  all  best  qualified  to  judge, 
and  the  recorded  verdict  of  a jury  of  inquest. 

The  evening  before  his  death,  the  speaker,  ever 
kindly  welcomed  as  a younger  brother  and  friend  by 
his  venerated  father’s  successor  in  this  now  vacant  bish- 
opric, was  directed  in  the  inscrutable  providence  of 
God  to  what  was  intended  as  a visit  of  congratulation 
and  social  pleasure.  But  it  was  evident  that  our  dear 
brother  was  not  himself.  Strangely  moody  and  silent, 
and  often  lost  in  thought,  he  hardly  smiled  during  the 
evening,  except  when  his  wife  cheered  him  into  a mo- 
mentary likeness  to  his  former  self  by  a favorite  piece 
of  music.  With  an  evident  feeling  of  incapacity  for 
the  sole  management  of  the  weekly  prayer-meeting,  he 
insisted  on  my  sharing  that  duty  with  him  ; and  after- 
wards, when  entreated  to  try  and  be  more  cheerful, 
with  the  assurance  that  he  had  seldom  spoken  better 
at  a meeting,  replied,  that  he  had  one  of  his  old  dys- 
peptic turns ; “ and  then  ” said  he,  “ you  know  I can- 
not be  cheerful.” 


* The  fact  has  since  been  communicated  by  the  family,  that  Mr.  B.’s  father, 
having  fallen  into  a similar  state  of  gloom,  in  consequence  of  an  affection  of  the 
liver,  -which  caused  a loathing  of  all  food,  and  being  seized  with  the  impression 
that  a famine  existed,  and  that  the  only  way  to  save  his  family  from  starvation, 
was  to  abstain  from  food  himself,  resisted  for  fourteen  days  all  entreaties  and 
efforts,  and  died  of  exhaustion.  He  thus  fell  a victim  to  an  insane  impulse  close- 
ly connected  with  affection  for  his  family ; while  his  son,  as  there  is  more  and 
more  reason  to  believe,  found  his  chief  source  of  anxiety  in  the  affection  he  bore 
to  his  people ; and  in  the  fear,  not  well-grounded,  and  yet  not  without  some  slight 
occasion,  making  it  seem  a reality  to  his  sensitive  mind,  that  he  could  no  longer 
labor  as  he  had  done  among  them  usefully  and  happily. 

3 


18 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  feofle. 


He  afterward,  however,  as  already  intimated,  was 
soothed  by  the  sound  of  music,  and  spoke,  with  almost 
his  usual  vivacity,  to  his  old  friend  of  the  new  friend 
who  thus  cheered  him,  and  of  whom  he  had  said,  but 
a few  days  before,  that  he  feared  he  should  love  her 
better  than  his  God.  Let  me  be  allowed  to  give  one 
more  evidence  of  the  dreadful  power  of  mental  disease 
upon  him,  in  connection  with  one  of  the  most  striking 
glimpses  of  his  devout  habits.  His  custom  was,  and 
had  been,  as  is  supposed,  for  years,  in  addition  to  other 
devotions,  both  secret  and  social,  to  pray  audibly  upon 
his  pillow  the  last  thing  before  yielding  to  sleep,  and 
again  the  first  thing  on  awaking ; thus  devoting  daily 
not  only  his  first  and  last  thoughts,  but  his  first  and 
last  words,  to  his  God.  But  during  that  last  dreadful 
week,  this  had  been  wholly  omitted.  Who  that  knew 
him  can  believe  that  this  was  but  an  ordinary  tempta- 
tion of  Satan  \ Who  can  doubt  that  his  soul  was  not 
only  exceeding  sorrowful,  — for  this  always  brought 
him  to  the  mercy-seat  by  day  or  by  night,  — but  that 
his  soul  was  darkened  with  the  shadows  of  departing 
reason,  even  while,  as  in  most  cases  of  derangement, 
some  of  the  faculties  remained  ? 

Over  the  scenes  of  the  next  morning  we  draw  a veil. 
May  their  remembrance  make  us  who  mingled  hi  them 
“ wiser  as  well  as  sadder ; ” and  may  what  is  known 
or  imagined  by  others,  lead  them  to  ask  with  humble 
self-distrust,  and  with  daily  thanksgiving  to  Him  who 
imparted  and  preserves  their  reason,  “ Lord,  what  is 
man  \ ” 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


19 


And  what  shall  I say  of  the  character  of  our  de- 
parted friend  ? When  I consider  what  must  be  said, 
if  the  truth  be  spoken,  I seem  to  hear  a remonstrance 
from  those  silent  lips,  which  ever  “ spoke  the  thing  he 
meant,”  and  from  which  we  have  all  heard  such  words 
of  humility  and  confession.  Yet  it  was  not  he,  but 
the  grace  of  God  which  was  in  him,  acting  upon  and 
refining  a naturally  noble  character,  — itself  the  prod- 
uct of  the  divine  hand,  — that  made  him  not  only  an 
honest  man,  but  a holy  man,  that  nobler  work  of  God ; 
and  that  imparted  to  him,  also,  an  intellectual  vigor 
such  as  few  men  possess.  Most  of  those  who  hear  me 
have  known  and  loved  him  so  long  and  so  well,  that 
their  own  thoughts  are  to  themselves  his  best  eulogy. 

And  if  I should  attempt  to  speak  their  thoughts,  — 
their  first  spontaneous  thoughts ; to  say  of  him  in  few 
words  what  they  feel,  when  they  look  upon  those  fea- 
tures once  so  lighted  up  with  varying  expression,  what 
ought  I to  say  \ My  own  heart  says : Noble,  great- 
hearted man  ! whole-souled,  generous,  sincere.  A man 
to  be  relied  upon.  Noble  in  the  warmth  and  fidelity 
of  his  friendship ; noble  in  the  humility  which  made 
him  esteem  others  better  than  himself ; noble  in  gen- 
erous self-forgetfulness ; noble  in  forgiveness,  and  in 
all  the  developments  of  that  grace,  which,  granted 
through  the  cross,  made  him  live  not  unto  himself,  but 
unto  Him  who  loved  him  and  gave  Himself  for  him. 
He  was  remarkable,  and  to  all  his  friends  in  the  strict- 
est and  highest  sense  amiable,  for  the  warmth  of  his 
affection.  If  we  may  not  say  of  him,  as  we  may  of 


20 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


no  mortal  man,  that  he  loved  the  Lord  his  God  with 
all  his  heart,  and  his  neighbor  as  himself,  we  may  at 
least  say,  that  he  loved  both  God  and  man  with  an 
amount  of  affection,  of  which  not  many  human  souls 
seem  to  be  capable. 

His  religious  feeling  and  domestic  affection  com- 
bined, shone  with  a heavenly  lustre  in  his  care  for  the 
souls  of  his  dear  children ; in  his  frequent  prayers 
with  and  for  them ; and  in  his  midnight  visits  to  their 
couches  during  a season  of  prevailing  religious  inter- 
est, where  alternately  beseeching  them  to  be  reconciled 
to  God,  and  beseeching  God  for  Christ’s  sake  to  have 
mercy  on  them,  he  was  instrumental  in  leading  them 
to  the  paths  of  early  piety,  in  which  his  own  daily 
walk  of  consistency  and  kindness  ever  afterwards 
guided  and  encouraged  them. 

His  zeal  for  God,  and  longing  for  the  souls  of  his 
people,  amounted  at  times  to  the  highest  moral  sub- 
limity. Who  that  saw  him  in  the  first  great  scene  of 
religious  interest  under  his  ministry ; his  own  soul 
filled  with  new  love  and  zeal ; disregarding  all  consid- 
erations of  ease  and  safety  to  health ; forbidden  at 
times  by  his  physicians  to  converse  hi  the  open  air,  yet 
pouring  forth  his  whole  soul  in  expostulations  with 
those  who  accompanied  him  homeward  from  his  winter 
evening  services,  — who  that  thus  saw  and  heard  him 
but  must  have  felt  emotions  which  nothing  but  a com- 
bination of  greatness  and  goodness  can  awaken?  It 
was  not  simply  beautiful ; it  was  sublime.  And  with 
all  that  iron  firmness  of  purpose  hi  labor,  and  all  that 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


21 


vividness  of  conception,  that  power  of  rebuke,  and 
that  moral  courage,  which  made  him  at  times  in  de- 
claring the  vileness  of  sin  and  God’s  threatenings 
against  it,  like  him  whom  men  called  Boanerges,  what 
a vein  of  tenderness  pervaded  his  character,  and  ran 
like  a silken  thread,  soft  and  shining,  through  his 
whole  pastoral  life.  This  was  the  secret,  under  God, 
of  his  power  in  winning  men,  even  the  proud  and  the 
wicked,  by  private  appeals.  His  great  tenderness 
made  him  at  times  irresistible.  He  would  enter  a 
man’s  dwelling,  sit  down  by  his  side,  place,  it  may  be, 
his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  or  lean  gently  upon  him, 
and  with  tears  entreat  him  to  reflect.  “ I have  not 
come,”  he  would  say,  “ to  argue  with  you,  but  I want 
to  tell  you  my  heart.”  This  trait  showed  itself  in  his 
love  to  his  people.  It  must  be  a comfort  to  them  to 
know,  that  after  that  week  of  mental  suffering  began, 
and  even  the  very  last  day  he  spent  on  earth,  he  said 
to  his  companion,  who  as  they  were  riding  tried  to 
cheer  him  with  the  thought  of  his  happy  parochial 
relations : “ O yes,  mine  is  the  best  parish  God  ever 
gave  to  a minister.” 

As  a preacher,  he  manifested  a great  diversity  in 
point  of  style  and  of  thought,  these  depending  of 
course  very  much  upon  his  singularly  variable  temper- 
ament. But  his  sermons  were  never  without  thought, 
— thought  that  breathed  often  hi  burning  words,  al- 
ways in  those  that  were  clear  and  intelligible.  It  wTas 
remarked  by  his  venerated  friend  and  former  instructer 
in  theology,  concerning  a published  sermon,  the  singu- 


22  god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 

lar  expressions  in  which  have  doubtless  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  who  failed  to  notice  the  strong  di- 
rect current  of  its  sentiment,  and  the  nervous  Saxon 
simplicity  of  its  diction : “ That  sermon  is  all  alive 
with  thought.” 

As  a popular  writer,  he  might  have  greatly  distin- 
guished himself,  as  many  an  able  article  in  various 
periodicals  will  testify,  if  his  published  writings  are 
ever  designated  as  the  product  of  his  pen. 

Among  his  brethren  he  was  without  guile,  and  ever 
hopeful  of  them  as  distrustful  of  himself.  He  could 
differ  without  malice.  He  could  express  his  views 
strongly  'without  the  words  leaving  their  deepening 
furrows  in  his  own  heart,  as  is  the  case  with  some 
whose  severe  wTords  spoken  one  day  but  prepare  the 
way  for  deeper  feeling  and  severer  words  the  next. 
He  said  all  he  meant,  and  when  you  thus  saw  his 
whole  heart,  you  were  neither  alarmed  nor  angry. 
Ever 

“ Free  from  envy,  scorn,  and  pride, 

He  could  a brother’s  failings  hide, 

And  show  a brother’s  love.” 


Having  much  of  that  charity  which  thinketh  no  evil, 
his  heart  inclined  him  to  err,  if  at  all,  in  his  estimates 
of  character,  on  that  side.  But  you  knew  him,  my 
fathers  and  my  brethren,  and  you  loved  him.  You  do 
love  him,  as  you  look  upon  those  sad  remains,  and  say: 
he  is  not  here,  but  is  risen. 

As  a husband  and  a father  he  was,  from  first  to  last, 
every  thing  that  the  warmest  affection  could  make  him, 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


23 


or  the  most  glowing  eulogy  represent  him.  In  these 
relations  God  has  greatly  blessed  him,  and  he  in  his 
heart  daily  blessed  God,  and  received  these  mercies 
with  the  practical  thanksgiving  which  consists  in  the 
right  use  of  the  divine  bounty.  He  was  in  these  rela- 
tions “twice  blessed,” — blessed  in  imparting  happi- 
ness as  in  receiving  it.  And  few,  perhaps,  have  better 
understood  the  meaning,  in  all  its  applications,  of 
those  last-recorded  words  of  our  divine  Lord,  “ It  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  ,to  receive.” 

But  I cannot,  and  I need  not,  attempt  any  farther 
sketch  of  a character,  which,  while  it  requires  a longer 
and  a calmer  time  to  analyze,  we  all  feel  that  we  un- 
derstand without  description.  Those,  who  knew  him 
best,  loved  him  most ; though  far  be  it  from  us  to  con- 
tradict his  own  humble  confessions  of  sinfulness,  or  to 
doubt  that  it  was  true  of  him,  as  of  ourselves,  that  the 
Being  who  knew  him  best  of  all,  saw  jn  him  most  to 
disapprove.  Like  other  men  saved,  he  was  a sinner, 
saved  by  grace. 

And  what  shall  I say  to  this  circle  of  mourners  \ 
Alas,  I am  a mourner  myself;  and  need  to  sit  and 
hear  words  of  comfort  and  of  counsel.  But  from 
whom  shall  they  come  \ Are  not  all  these,  my  fathers 
and  brethren  in  the  ministry,  mourners  too  ? 

Let  me  then  not  shrink  from  even  a feeble  effort,  to 
expound  the  providence  as  well  as  the  word  of  God, 
remembering  the  blessed  office  of  consolation  which 
we,  my  brethren,  as  Christian  ministers,  have  sustained 


24 


god’s  treatment  oe  his  own  people. 


in  common  with  our  departed  brother  who  so  well  ful- 
filled it.  O,  if  he  could  now  this  once  more  resume 
its  duties  ! If,  from  the  temple  in  the  skies,  he  could 
come  down  in  spirit  and  employ  those  cold  lips,  or 
speak  in  angel’s  whispers  to  our  aching  hearts,  what 
might  he  say  1 — 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves.  Weep, 
ye  saints,  for  your  sms ; weep,  ye  sinners,  for  your 
prospects ; weep,  ye  ministers,  between  the  porch  and 
the  altar,  and  tell  dying  men,  as  you  and  I never 
knew  or  felt  how  to  tell  them  while  I lived,  of  the 
glorious  heaven,  the  dreadful  hell,  and  the  precious 
Saviour,  which  things  now  seem  to  so  many  of  them 
like  idle  tales. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  thou  dear  companion,  who  didst 
rise  a bright  evening  star  upon  my  path,  just  before  it 
ended  darkly  in  time,  to  begin  again  under  the  morn- 
ing sun  of  heaven. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  ye  dear  children ; with  your 
sainted  mother,  and  all  the  holy  dead,  I dwell  joy- 
fully in  this  world,  where  they  neither  marry  nor  are 
given  in  marriage,  but  are  as  the  angels  of  God  in 
heaven.  Be  sure  to  meet  us  here. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  ye  beloved  companions  of  my 
childhood,  one  of  whom  has  but  so  lately  left  the  care 
of  my  broken  household.  With  a brother’s  love,  I 
beseech  you  all  to  be  comforted,  and  to  be  my  com- 
panions hereafter. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  ye  aged  and  ye  youthful  connec- 
tions, whom  I have  dearly  loved  with  the  love  of  a 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people.  25 

soil  or  a brother,  and  for  whom  by  name,  and  from  my 
soul,  I have  prayed,  while  I remained  in  a world  of 
prayer. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  ye  officers  and  members  of  that 
dear  church,  which,  except  my  God  and  my  family,  laid 
nearest  my  heart.  O,  may  none  of  you  come  short  of 
this  blessed  rest  into  which  I have  entered ; but  each 
one,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  be  presented 
faultless  before  the  throne  of  His  glory  with  exceed- 
ing joy- 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  ye  dear  members  of  my  flock, 
whom  I have  vainly  endeavored  to  lead  to  Christ ; but 
weep  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  children,  whom  your 
example  may  bring  with  you  to  that  place  of  torment 
which  I through  grace  have  escaped.  O,  let  me  see 
you  all  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Judge. 

“ Weep  not  for  me,  beloved  children  and  youth,  who 
have  now  looked  into  my  coffin.  I am  with  that 
Saviour  whom  I have  so  often  entreated  you  to  love, 
and  into  whose  sacred  name,  with  that  of  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  I have  baptized  so  many  of  you. 
Weep  for  your  sins,  and  come  to  Him,  whose  blood 
can  wash  them  all  away. 

44  Weep  not  for  me,  my  fathers  and  my  brethren  in 
the  sacred  office.  Though  I was  a sinner,  I have  been 
saved  by  grace.  He  is  faithful  who  hath  promised. 
Only  take  heed  to  yourselves,  and  to  the  flock,  over 
which  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  made  you  overseers.” 

Thus  may  we  imagine  him  to  comfort  and  to  teach 
us.  And  above  all  must  we,  my  fellow-mourners,  what- 
4 


26  god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 

ever  the  nature  or  degree  of  our  sorrow,  look  to  the 
God  of  all  grace  and  consolation ; to  the  divine 
Teacher,  who  “breathes  upon  the  word,”  and  who 
interprets  to  the  believing  heart  the  mysteries  of  Prov- 
idence ; and  to  the  High  Priest,  who  can  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities. 

And  now  we  turn  again  reverently  to  the  Blessed 
Word.  Let  us  not  forget  that  glorious  vision  of  the 
future  adjustment  of  these  mysteries,  which  our  text 
presents.  “ They  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord,  in 
that  day  when  I make  up  my  jewels,”  They  are  His 
now,  and  He  knoweth  them ; but  then,  they  shall  be 
gathered 

“ From  ocean  caves,  beneath  the  waves  ; ” 

from  lofty  mausoleums  and  unmarked  sepulchres,  shall 
the  bodies  of  the  saints  be  brought.  And  their 
righteous  souls,  often  vexed  like  Lot’s,  with  the  filthy 
conversation  of  the  wicked,  no  longer  scattered  gems, 
trampled  under  feet  with  the  vilest  pebbles,  but 
brought  together  and  deposited  among  the  peculiar 
treasures  of  the  celestial  kingdom.  “ Then  shall  ye 
return  and  discern.”  Even  the  most  blind  would  see, 
the  most  inconsiderate  caviller  would  understand,  that 
there  is  a difference,  in  condition  as  in  character,  be- 
tween the  righteous  and  the  wicked. 

And  what  a difference ! Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  while  in  his  mortal  state 
conceived,  either  of  the  wide  extremes.  O,  could  I 
speak  of  one  extreme,  as  those  now  silent  lips  have 


god’s  treatment  of  his  own  people. 


27 


declared  the  terror  of  the  Lord  until  the  stoutest 
hearts  have  felt  the  word  made  quick  and  powerful  by 
the  attending  Spirit,  and  have  bowled  like  the  trees  of 
a forest  in  the  wind.  O,  may  he,  being  dead,  yet 
speak,  through  memory,  telling  you  again  the  words 
which  he  spake  while  yet  present  with  you. 

But  the  scene  leads  chiefly  to  different  thoughts. 
O ! that  other  extreme;  the  blessedness  of  those 
who,  being  ransomed  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  shall 
escape  the  second  death.  "What  should  we  even  now 
discern,  if  our  eyes  were  opened  like  those  of  the 
young  man  with  the  prophet  Elisha  \ How  should  we 
discern  the  spiritually  wise,  shining  as  the  brightness 
of  the  firmament,  and  those  that  have  turned  many  to 
righteousness  as  the  stars,  for  ever  and  ever.  How 
kindly  are  they  spared,  as  a man  spareth  his  own  son 
that  serveth  him.  Spared  from  all  farther  fear  and 
endurance  of  bodily  pain  or  mental  distraction  ; spared 
from  sorrowing ; spared  from  sinning ; spared  from 
the  just  punishment  of  sin,  because  God  spared  not  his 
own  Son,  and  they  have  accepted  Him  as  their  Saviour  ; 
spared  from  all  that  is  evil,  and  blest  with  all  that  is 
good ; safe,  holy,  and  happy,  for  ages  without  end. 

O ! will  not  the  universe,  wflien  they  see  this, 
clearly  and  for  ever  discern,  even  according  to  Jehovah’s 
unerring  discrimination,  between  the  righteous  and 

THE  W ICKED  ; BETWEEN  HIM  THAT  SERVETH  God  AND 
HIM  THAT  SERVETH  HlM  NOT  \ 


